


A Star in the Dirt

by Tanomura_Reiko_san2272



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-08-23 00:44:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16608605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tanomura_Reiko_san2272/pseuds/Tanomura_Reiko_san2272
Summary: This is my first story, it not a fic, though I hope to gain some experience so that I hacan write a fic next time. This is the life story of Orion. There will be heartbreak, there will be some gruesome details and potential rape, sex trade, robbery and other illicit dealings. If you are not fond of blood and mess, turn around now. These events are for later chapters though.





	1. Naming

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story so any consturctive comments are welcome. If you dont like the content, just keep it to yourself. Also, this is raw, no beta at this time.

This is a story that maybe I should never have written. As they say, if there is no body there is no crime, so I have no idea why I am now here sitting on this shitty desk, writing on this old notebook, things I have not told a soul and never will. Something tells me that this has to do with what they call guilt. Sure I´ve had plenty of time to get acquainted with the term, and what it entails. Anyhow, I suppose that if I have chosen to write this, then I better start from the beginning.  
I was the son of a very poor woman. Or maybe I wasn’t. I never knew her name or if she was actually poor or just a bitch, but I’d like to think she abandoned me because she had no other choice. My first memories are of Janice. She was not my mother, heck, she was barely a few years older than me, but she took care of me all the same. She was like an angel. An angel with a coarse temper, but an angel nonetheless. I was probably 4 at the time of my first memories. I remember that she would steal food, apples, bread, sometimes cheese and sausages, and she would bring them back home for us to share. Our home was a tent in a public area at the time. It was a very nice place, with all the necessities. We would clean up in the stream by the sewer, where it was clearer, there was sun, and we were dry. To top it off, the place was charmed with the delicious stench of sewer. It was no park whatsoever, but it was safe. That’s one of the things Janice used to say.  
She told me she found me wrapped up and crying my eyes out in a box at the corner of the street, in front of the church. Not too far away from our home. She had saved a tiny blanket and would hold it tenderly as she told me the story of how she I came into her life.  
She had told me the same story countless of times by the end. It was always my favorite. “You were so small” she would start, and I always knew that she loved me from the moment she laid eyes on me. “I remember hearing the crying, and I was scared because it was late at night and no one in their sane mind would cry that loud at night. Especially if they were anything like me. Alone, and small.” Janice would recall “I was maybe 11 or 12 back then. I had been thinking of sneaking in one of the convenience stores that was 2 blocks further down the road, but the damn crying would only get louder and louder. I couldn’t help myself, I had to at least see what the fuzz was about.”  
She would frown at this, and continue saying, “so, anyhow. I kept walking towards the crying. I was scared as living hell. I kept thinking, what if he is crying because someone is hurting him? What am I supposed to do then? But against my instinct of self-preservation, and the ever-present hunger that all but lived in my belly, I kept walking. I was about to pee myself when I finally rounded the corner and saw where the crying was coming from. There as a tiny box at the corner of the street by the lamp post. I looked around and made sure that there was no one else there, and then went up to the box. I looked inside and saw this little thing wailing desperately inside, all but purple with he effort. You were wrapped up in this blanket, and soaked with about half an inch of water inside the box.” By now, a tear would be threatening to jump out of her right eye. It was always the right eye first.  
She would keep going “I thought to myself, how come this poor thing has been here long enough to be this wet? How can anyone abandon a baby like that? And then it hit me that once upon a time, I too, had been abandoned. I thought, I know I am small, but at least I can feed you and keep you dry. At the time, I didn’t think that the church could do any better for you. I knew the priest was only there on Sundays, and it was a Wednesday. I would take at least until Friday for the cleaning to even be there. It was a stretch that they would notice. You’d have to be extra lucky because they always went in from the back, and would surely miss the little box at the corner of the street, in front of the church.” And she would gaze at me adoringly, “I all but forgot my raid plan for the convenience store, and grabbed you, kicked the god-damn box you were left in, and looked you in the eyes for the first time.”  
Here is when the first tear would roll down her cheek. Fat and heavy, as if it was carrying all of her sorrow and mine in one little drop of salty water. I used to look at her mesmerized. I would barely dare to breathe and would never dream of interrupting this story. No matter how many times I had heard it. “The moment we met eyes you stopped crying. You were not even heavy, or I don’t recall you were at that moment. We stared at each other for what felt like minutes, but I’m sure it wasn’t even 10 seconds. Time fools you like that. I remember your tiny hands, trying to grab my nose, and I laughed. I laughed and I cried. I thought, I’m sorry little one, I’m so sorry you were tossed aside like this. But you won’t be alone, I’ll be with you.”  
She would go over the story with almost the exact same words every time. And every time she would let only one or two tears run down her face. She was never a soft woman, not by far. It was only when she told me this story that I would see her cry. “I almost forgot that we would be hungry if I went straight home, so I visited a friendly old man that lived nearby. He was not friendly enough to take me in, but if I was hungry, he would feed me. So, it would not surprise you that he immediately gave me a carton of milk, a little bit of sugar, and some bread and cheese to go. I took what he gave, which was heavy and suddenly I remembered that you should be heavy too. As if by magic, you suddenly had all your close-to-newborn weight for me to struggle with. Carrying you, and the food back home was a messy business. I almost slip on the wet streets so many times, I can’t possibly tell you.”  
She told me that we had been forced to move out of where she lived back when she found me. It was about 2 years after. According to Janice, home back then was a little room in a run-down abandoned house that thankfully, no one had noticed her in yet. “When I got home with you, I cleaned you. I was a little bit of a struggle because it was dark, but you did not cry once. It was as if you knew you shouldn’t. I fed you some milk with sugar. You ate so easily, even 11-year-old me had barely any trouble feeding newborn you with a spoon, of all things. You had been so hungry it pained me more than my own hunger. Later that night, when I finally managed to get us ready for bed, I felt more content than I had felt since I was born. I laid you down in the bunch of old sheets that I used as a bed, and I decided I couldn’t just call you -you- forever. You needed a name. So, I named you the only thing that I thought would made sense. A name I thought was strong, and that would protect you when you grew up. Orion. It was the only constellation name I knew at the time. I thought, God isn’t there to save you or me, but the stars are. If the time comes when I cannot protect you, the stars will, for you are one of them.”  
She would then fold the tiny blanket and put it away in a box with our most treasured things. Keep in mind, this is one of my first memories, so, as 4-year-old and with all the things we lacked, the fact that we didn’t use that blanket made no sense to me. I get it now though. It was always a thing of Janice to silently try to save what she thought of as my innocence.  
She would then come back to bed, wrap me in her arms, and let me sleep listening to her heartbeat. How come a girl that was maybe fifteen at the time, had so much tenderness and love to give a baby she picked up out in the street? How come she loved me, and my so-called mother did not?  
Janice would have never abandon me. Even if I had been hers. She would have given her life for me in the blink of an eye. I always knew just how deeply she loved me, and that is the very reason I grew up to be the man I am. I loved her back, fiercely and without reservations. The way I can never love another living thing. With complete trust. I loved her more than I would have loved my mother. That I know for sure. It pains me so much that she left me when she was still so young.


	2. Showing the true colors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We dive once again in Janice's and Orion's world. A taste of what it was like to live with Janice and the adaptation process to what people call, "normal".

Life is not fair. Janice would often remind me of that. One line she said to me, ever since I was old enough to understand it was, “if you let motherfuckers slide, they think they can ice-skate.” Janice was a firm woman. She always had her way with things. We had both been abandoned but we were no victims. When I started hearing this particular life warning, Janice had grown up to be rougher on the outside. Strangers were really careful around her, even men. She used to steal whatever she could and sell it for us to get by, and she taught me how. She always told me that what we did was wrong, but we had no other choice. At least not back then. She vowed that she would create choices for me. She used to say that often too. It was a mantra of hers that went something like this: “We were tossed aside, but we are alive. I may not have many choices to pick from, but there are some, and from that, I will multiply the choices for you. This is so you can choose whatever you desire and make a better life than mine. You ought to live better than I do when you reach my age.” Here don’t even think she was old enough in the traditional sense to say things like that. I think she was maybe 20 or so back then. Still, all but a child herself. She always spoke as an aged woman, even though she was really young. She was also ruthless when needed.  
I remember that at some point, Janice managed to rent a little apartment on the second floor of a Chinese restaurant. The owner was an old woman with very short gray hair. She was short and had small hazel eyes. I think she was not really Chinese, but a half-blood mixed with something darker. Her facial features were slightly angular for a Chinese woman, and she had a darker tinge to her skin. Not coming on the brown shades, but close. Ms. Kang, was her name. She was very quiet, and when she spoke it was usually spitting angry words. Ms. Kang knew quite well that the money she was getting paid with was anything but honestly earned, but she didn’t give a damn. All she cared about was getting her money every first of the month. And she was never let down. Janice would do whatever she had to, to make sure our home was safe. She used to say that she had had her fair share of sleeping under the stars for a lifetime, and had no intention of going back there.  
Not long after we found a place, Janice got me into school. It was shocking to me at first. I was a short and thin boy, 10 years old, and starting off school for the first time. I was really grateful to be able to learn with others, after years of studying by myself. How naive I was back then. It makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time now. But then again, I was only a boy and despite growing up in the streets, I didn’t really know how harsh people can be. This was an eye-opener.  
Of course, Janice had taught me how to read and write, plus basic math, but she had a limit. When we reached said limit a few years back, she had simply said “I know you get bored Orion, I wish I could teach you more. You are so smart. But let it not be my lack of knowledge, that which will stomp yours.” She then gave me a book. The first one she ever gave me was an old looking book that had been handled so much, that the letters on the cover had all but vanished. With difficulty, I managed to read, The Picture of Dorian Grey. Imagine a 6-year-old reading this book eagerly every day until I all but consumed the pages. I was so taken by the novel, that I would not notice anything else around me.   
Ever since that first book, Janice noticed how I fell in love with it and every chance she got, she gave me new books. They were all second handed, battered-looking books, but I received them with a smile from the bottom of my heart. I was most happy when she gave me new books. It was great that it did not stop with literature either. Janice gave me history books, math books, philosophy books, and anything she got her hands on. I would read them all equally eagerly. I just loved to learn. Hence, why I was shocked when I started going to school. There, this bunch of kids were just desperate for going out and play and cared not for any learning. It was a struggle for those kids to sit still for a lesson. Not because they knew the contents, but because they simply did not care for them. I could not wrap my head around that. I remember that 10-year-old me felt personally offended that the kids would interrupt the class with nonsense every couple of minutes.   
I learned quickly that I could not voice these complaints without retribution. As in every tale, and pretty much every stage of life, there was a bully. And I was in his way. He was a head taller than me, and pretty much every other kid. His name was Mike. He had a bulky frame, short blonde hair, and blue eyes. He would grow up to be a ladies’ man if he ever found his brain. Mike had a brother 3 years older and threatened to have anyone that opposed him beat up if they complained. Mike was a silly kid with an aggression issue, he was looking for attention. You could tell that he was suffering from abuse at home from the black and purple marks on his arms and legs. They were always ill-concealed by his clothing, which implied that no one cared about it enough to even try to hide the evidence.   
It was an obvious development really. And seeing as no teacher made a move to correct his behavior or the course he was headed to, it is was clear they didn’t care either. Anyhow, as you may imagine, I became a target for Mike. He started throwing papers at me, spitting on my desk when I wasn’t in it, and hiding my notebooks. You know, the typical.   
I had no friends. I had barely been at school a week when the whole thing started. There was no one to back me up, but since I had always been alone, that didn’t bother me. I honestly thought that I could talk to him and resolve the issue, so one day during recess I went up to him. “Hey Mike, I think we should talk.” He didn’t reply to me, just snickered and kept talking to his friends. I insisted and finally after three calls, he replied: “what the hell do I have to talk to you about, you wimp?” I was taken aback by the aggressive response, but I kept going “it looks like you have a problem with me. I want to know what I did to you, and what we can do to resolve this peacefully”. I had seen similar situations with different characters before. Something that living in the streets had taught me is that everyone tried to talk their way out of fights because they rarely fought with fists, and if the talk went wrong, bullets would start flying. Janice had made sure I was always as safe as can be during these exchanges but thought it important that I learned to manage myself from a young age.  
The look of emptiness in Mike’s eyes told me that the whole business was going downhill. “I don’t even understand the words you say, you asshole, but yeah I do have a problem with you. I have no idea why they let the son of a whore in our school! And you come and try to be the teacher’s pet! you know it all fucker!" He was hissing by that point, and even at my young age, I knew that I had made him feel stupid. I probably should have kept quiet and gone back about my day, but the warning from Janice rung in my head. “If you let motherfuckers slide, they think they can ice-skate” and I would sure as hell not be taking punishment from this little kid anymore. I braced myself for what was to come. I was thin and smaller than him, but I knew how to defend myself. Janice had seen to that.  
“I had no idea you knew my mother. It’s odd she never mentioned meeting one of the three pigs of the tale. Considering how lazy you are, you probably didn’t even build a house for the wolf to blow at, right? Although, on second thought, something tells me that you are just confusing your mother with mine.” He was red in the face by then, but I kept going, “if it bothers you that I am, how did you call it…ah, the teacher’s pet, maybe you should study more instead of stuffing your face. Unless you are the sacrificial pig for the next holiday.” Mike’s red cheeks and empty looking eyes told me that I was wasting my breath. He was simply not capable of understanding what I was saying, and this made me mad. How could this moron be the same age as me? I looked at his friends and found the same exact empty looking eyes and realized that they had not understood my meaning either. These bunch of 10-year-old kids had no idea what I had said. At least the red on their cheeks indicated that they gathered it wasn’t a compliment.  
The seconds it took Mike to decide what to do, were all it took for me to know that this was going to be a physical confrontation rather than verbal, as I had hoped. I was short and thin, but I had grown in the streets. Walking long distances, running for my life sometimes, and all in all, I was not weak at all, for my age of course. Mike took a short step in my direction, raised his right fist and then took a longer step trying to hit my left cheek. It was obvious what he wanted to do, so I dodged by bending my upper body backward, and I grabbed on to Mike’s wrist pulling him to my left side with all my strength, taking two short steps back and to the right to get out of the way of his body, as it fell on the floor. Mike fell to his knees. He looked up to see me, probably not expecting what happened next. I had gotten myself out of the way of his fist so that I could take a turn at attacking. I had taken another step back and brought the sole of my left foot square in his right cheek as he looked up. The momentum from his motion and mine brought my foot on his nose and broke it with a crack.   
The next thing I knew, Mike was crying his eyes out and calling for his brother. That’s when I learned the bother’s name was Brad. He was all Mike was, just bigger and meaner. I was considering what to do, as Brad came to his brother’s side, saw the broken nose bleeding heavily on to Mike’s shirt and asked the obvious, “who did this?” I replied a little shakily, “I did.” He looked at me for a second longer and took his bother by the elbow and dragged him to the to his feet. He looked back as he guided Mike inside the building to the infirmary. His eyes square on me. The dark look in his eyes told me that this whole business was far from over.


	3. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We continue our journey through Orion's and Janice's story. Consequences and more changes await!

Have you ever watched one of those horror films that happen in abandoned schools, where everything is silent until the killing starts? All those damn movies have one thing in common. Silent schools are creepy. That was exactly the atmosphere around me at that moment. It only lasted like 5 seconds, and then, there was chaos. Everyone was shouting and running all over the place. I was still absently looking in the direction that Brad and Mike had gone, when a teacher I didn’t even know the name of, stood at the edge of the stairs and said in a stern voice “Orion, come with me.” And just like that, I knew I had fucked up. Janice would be pissed to hell and back. I moved my feet one in front of the other against my instinct to run and hide. As Janice would say, “Being brave enough to clean my own shit.”  
As I dragged my feet following the teacher, all I could think about was that I had done nothing wrong. I replayed the actions in my head and nothing was out the proper course. I had tried to reason with Mike. He had insulted me. I insulted him back. He took the first blow, I protected myself. I had not initiated any of the aggression that occurred. That was clear in my mind. But something told me that I would be blamed. Mike had said it, they considered me the son of a whore. And even though I was too young by regular standards to be even remotely interested in sex, my upbringing had been quite out of the regular definition of “normal” and I knew what a whore was. They had no clue that Janice was not my mother, and that she was most definitely no whore. I was brought out of my own mind by the teacher. I then took notice of his appearance. He was a middle-aged man close to being bald and with a very well-trimmed beard in the most startling black with a few scattered white hairs here and there. He was not short by any means, but he was not all that tall either. Janice is probably taller, I thought. The teacher had abruptly stopped walking, and I almost collided with his back. He turned around and looked at me silently for a few seconds. “I’m sure you do not know me. I am Vice Principal Jones. You can call me Mr. Jones. I want to talk to each of you and listen to your version of this event separately, so I can have a better understanding of it and decide if this requires a meeting with Principal Perez.” I nodded and opened my mouth to start, but he cut me off. “Not here Orion. Please take a sit while I call both your parents and then I’ll call you into my office.” I had not even noticed that we were standing in front of the door. There were 2 chairs on either side of it. I nodded again and took a sit. The teacher watched me settle and then walked into his office.  
I have always been a fast thinker. It has saved my life more times than I can count, to be honest. But, like everything in life, I had to develop a system over the years to make it the most effective. The 10-year-old me had all the mental speed, but not much structure. The result, I’d think about everything and anything at the same time, instead of coming up with a solution to the pressing issue. I remember thinking in all directions while I waited for Mr. Jones to call me. I thought I had not created the problem and thus, I was innocent of everything up until that kick, which was inevitable in the end. I thought of Mr. Jones calling Janice and what she would think of me. I had barely a week at school under my belt and already causing her problems. Janice did not deserve to be weighted down with these kinds of issues. I knew very well that she had other things to take care of, both during the day and night, to be here wasting time at school because I got into a “fight”. I also thought, what fight? The moron had not even known what hit him. I had no intention to hurt him, really, I mean it. I had wanted to simply hit his cheek, as he had intended to hit mine. Had he not moved his head, his nose would still be intact. Which basically meant that this was all his fault and I was the victim. And this was true, but I was pretty sure that it would not be easy to convince other kids to say so with the ever-present threat of Brad giving them a black eye or more.  
Movement caught my eye, and, even though I had not heard him do so, I realized that Mr. Jones had called Mike in to tell the story before me. He and Brad went into his office without looking my way. Who knows what crazy tale the morons would come up with to make Mike look innocent. I was on the losing side of this situation. A few minutes later, I felt the cool touch of a hand I knew very well over mine. I had been gripping the chair with so much force, that my hand had cramped, and I had not noticed either. All the while stuck in my mind, racing over all kinds of thoughts. Janice said then, “I was called in. You look ok, so that means the other kid does not. What happened?” She kept an even and low voice all the while. Janice had never physically punished me at that point, and she never did. That did nothing to calm my nerves of whatever consequences I’d have to face because of Mike’s behavior though.  
“I have been bullied by the same kid for a few days now. So, I tried to talk to him, and he tried to punch me. I only acted on self-defense.” I answered. “How bad is the other kid?” she asked. “A broken nose and bruised pride,” I said. I saw a flicker of amusement on Janice’s eyes, and I had to fight to suppress a smile on my face. “Once we go inside, follow my lead. You know the drill.” I nodded. Maybe 2 minutes later, the door to Mr. Jones office opened. Mike and Brad came out, and Mr. Jones called me in. Janice stood up to her full height of 5.5 feet, rearranged her jacket and took a step towards the door, waiting for me to follow. I stood up and walked to her, coming into the office first and walking to stand behind the chair I would later sit on. “Mr. Jones, this is my sister, Janice Lopez.” I referred to her as my sister even though she was the only mother I knew because it was useless trying to make people think she was my mother. She looked way too young. Sometimes, even younger than she actually was. Janice then walked forward and introduced herself with a handshake. Mr. Jones offered her a seat, and when she had sat, I did so too.  
The middle-aged teacher regarded Janice with a mix of surprise and curiosity in his eyes. “I wish I could have called you on a happier note Ms. Lopez, but the situation required your presence. Please, Orion, tell us your version of what happened.” He said, all the while looking at me with accusing eyes. I made sure to use the most polite and complete language I could muster, and related the facts without adding any color. Simply stating the actual truth to what happened. “Mr. Jones, I am new to this school, and I know you probably suspect the disturbance was initiated by me, but I assure you that I had intended to simply speak with Mike. I wanted to know why he had been throwing papers at me and other forms of aggression. I am no fighter, but I am no victim either. He tried to punch and I defended myself. That is the truth and to be absolutely honest, if I were to replay the scene, it would probably come out the same way.” I could tell by looking in the corner of my eye that Janice was having a hard time suppressing a smile. I was startled by the fact that it looked the same as that proud smile she gave me every time I finished a new book and told her what I had learned. I returned my attention to Mr. Jones to find a look of complete awe on his face. He was most definitely surprised, and I had no idea why.  
“Orion, after listening to both sides of the story, I do not believe you initiated the aggression. In fact, I am considerably surprised at this meeting. Let’s put today’s incident aside for a moment. I’d like to ask you both a couple of questions now.” I was a little scared at this development. To be really blunt, I thought I had screwed up. Again.  
“Ms. Lopez, I understand that you and your brother lost your parents several years ago and that you have been homeschooling Orion up to this point, is that correct?” he asked. Yes, it is. Our parents left us in the care of an uncle who passed away quite recently. He had been managing everything, and he believed that homeschooling us was the best alternative. I suppose he did not want to separate us after we lost both our parents so suddenly. He nodded, not looking at Janice or me, but at some papers that I presumed, where my permanent record at the school. “And why have you decided to send Orion to this school now?” I grew up with only Orion, and even though I love him very much, I didn’t have anyone my own age to talk to or share experiences with. It was somewhat lonely to grow up that way, and I wanted Orion to have a chance at making friends. The chance I didn’t have. Our uncle passed away over a year ago, now. I thought it safe to give it a try now. Mr. Jones raised his eyes now and looked at Janice directly in the eye.  
He brought both hands to the desk and interlaced his fingers. Janice had grabbed my hand over the side of the chair and was holding it tight. I tried my best to look repentant but not too much. It would serve no purpose for anyone to think that I felt I had done something wrong, but I did feel bad I had bothered Janice. “I have to say I had not believed Orion’s teacher, Ms. Woods, when she told me that he was not going to adapt to her class, but now, I have to agree”. I imagine I must have gone paper—white because Mr. Jones laughed as he looked at me, a smile that reached his eyes and made him look younger. “Don’t worry Orion, this is not a bad thing. Ms. Woods had shown me your tests and thought your results were way too advanced for her class. I did notice that you had a great knowledge of different topics on your admission tests but that is not uncommon on homeschooled children. However, after your explanation of this afternoon’s situation, I must agree with Ms. Woods. Your vocabulary knowledge is far greater than any other 10-year old. The way you connect ideas and structure your speech is sometimes not even found in adults.” He had got up from his desk by then and was searching a cabinet behind his desk. “Ms. Lopez, I believe we should consider placing Orion in a class that he will find more challenging. I know you wanted him to have more friends his age, but if we keep him in the class he is now, he will be bored and under-using his intellect.” He pulled a form and 2 pamphlets from the cabinet and handed the form with one pamphlet to Janice and the other pamphlet to me. The little booklet was for another school. Star Makers School for the gifted. There were pictures of the facilities and a list of benefits on the paper, but I was reeling with this development and could not comprehend anything I was seeing. I had come into this office to be reprimanded, and now I was being treated like a gifted kid? What exactly could we do about this? I knew this kind of school would be expensive, and Janice was doing all sorts of things, from simple theft to smuggling illicit items into town to get the money for us to get by. This would not work.  
I was not listening properly until I heard Janice’s voice again saying: “Mr. Jones, I am really happy to hear you say this. Please tell what I need to do to get Orion into this school, I’ll take care of the rest” I turned to look at her baffled, but I said nothing. “That’s great! Please fill out this form and come back here tomorrow. I will speak with the principal there and make the arrangements for them to receive you after. For now, please Orion, pick up your books and head home. Classes are almost over, and I do believe it would be best that you and Mike are not in the same closed space for at least 24 hours”. He had said that last part with a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mustached lips.  
Janice had said goodbye with a bright smile, and we walked out of the school in silence. All the time, she kept smiling. I walked beside her in a daze. I was so lost in my own head, that I did not even notice we had not taken the path to the apartment but were walking to the poorest part of town. I did not awake from my musings until Janice stopped walking and I looked up, noticing where we were. We were standing right in front of the park by the sewer we had lived at a few years ago. Janice looked straight at the filthy water and said: “When I found you on that cold night 10 years ago, I knew you would be important. And I do not mean only important to me, but important in this world. That you would change it. Renew it.” I was looking at her. She seemed genuinely happy and her eyes were bright. “I see this place, and I remember so many things. We have been through a lot, Orion. We have conquered many demons and we are now going to face new ones. I know you are concerned about the payments for this new school. Don’t be. I chose to do this, and I will do it right. You are my responsibility and I will do whatever it takes for you to be educated the way you deserve.”  
“But Janice, how are we going to pay for it? You say you will do whatever it takes, but that worries me. You know it does. I would even go back to studying home if that would make things easier. I could help you with the business.” At this, she smiled even wider, showing all her bright white teeth. “Of course, you’ll help! Orion, I will do whatever it takes for you to be educated, but that does not stop at school. Business will have to grow to make enough to pay for this, and you will do well to learn a thing or two about where we will be headed now. Smuggling some illegal purses or whatever will not be enough anymore. We will have to think big. I’ll talk to Old Joe tonight, and you will come with me. We will do this together. But remember, you will keep your hands clean. It is enough with me getting dirty.”  
She looked so happy and determined, with her hair blowing and the sun casting a halo around her, that I could only nod and smile back. Yes, we will do this together, I thought. I’ll be there for you just as you have always been there for me. She hugged me then, and I hugged her back as tight as I could. We had come a long way, we had come out of the sewers to live among people. We dressed in clean clothes and ate every day now, but that was not enough. That was far, very far from the goal. We would do whatever we wanted. I would make sure that Janice felt my support and would do whatever I could to make her happy. She, more than any living creature, deserved to be happy.


End file.
